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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256513">Crossed Wires</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJam9/pseuds/RJam9'>RJam9</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Attempt at Humor, BACK ON MY BULLSHIT, Banter, Gen, How Do I Tag, I don’t understand sci-fi language and I don’t intend to try, POV First Person, POV Outsider, Post Network Effect, Relationship Study, Spoilers for Network Effect, hello it’s me again, i love ART and Murderbot, okay uh fuck, someone please help me, the T is just for language btw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:08:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJam9/pseuds/RJam9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland and Dr. Mensahs team have been hired to survey a planet recently bought by the university — the only downside is that it’s a full 28 cycles away. Which means the crew of the Perihelion (said crew includes humans, SecUnits and the actually Perihelion itself) will be forced to have interactions with eachother. Joy.</p><p>(or, five times a human watched Murderbot and ART interact, and one time Murderbot and ART ((sort of)) watched the humans interact.)</p><p>///</p><p>(post Network Effect)</p><p>///</p><p>edit 13/11/20: there are a few mistakes in this involving names i am planning on revising soon! keep that in mind when reading. :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asshole Research Transport &amp; Murderbot (Murderbot Diaries)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>226</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crossed Wires</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>okay I literally. I literally got Network Effect a few days after it came out (preorder woo), read it in two days, then spent like, almost two weeks working on this. jesus fuck.</p><p>I am SO scared to post this bc im so worried I got their voices wrong. enjoy anyhow.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>1 - Seth</b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Even months after getting dinged in the leg, I still limped.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It didn’t matter, not really, as my evaluation in medical said it was fine without any risk of infection or amputation. I had messed it up pretty badly, back with all the grey-skinned alien people, however, I might have a limp for the rest of life. Again, I could live with it. I had been through worse.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Currently, we were back on Peri, on our first mission ever since the ... eventful one with the kidnapping. This time, however, it wasn’t just our regular crew, another team had joined us. It was lead by Dr. Mensah, yes, </span> <span class="s3">the</span> <span class="s2">Dr. Mensah who had been involved with GrayCris. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">So far, the other team hadn’t been that bad. In fact, they all seemed all good people — especially since we (well, all of us expect Dr. Mensah) had been through a life-threatening situation together. Dr. Mensah was a smart and straight forward woman, her brother Thiago was a bit more stern than her but still alright to be around. Amena, her daughter, had come along as well and became good friends with my own daughter Iris, which really boosted my attitude towards her.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The other members of the team were also okay. Overse and Arada, a married couple, and Ratthi, who seemed to be the odd one out, and kept mostly to himself, but he was pretty funny when you got to know him. Now, those were the humans. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Other than that, there were two SecUnits that had joined us. Three, who used to belong to Barish-Estranza and had only hacked its Governor Module a few monthsago. Still not used to being able to make its own choices, it had come along because ‘it had nothing else to do’ and it spent most of its time walking around </span> <span class="s3">Peri</span> <span class="s2">or sorting through the multitude of media it had been given from various other crew members.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The second SecUnit was called Murderbot. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">The SecUnit — </span> <em><span class="s3">Murderbot</span></em> <span class="s2">— that had rescued us. The one Peri had met before, and had been wiling to blow up a colony over. The one currently sitting on the other side of the lounge from me, doing a far-off stare at the wall. From what I knew about SecUnits, that dead eyed usually meant it was sorting through its feed.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“So, uh, Murderbot.” It turned to look at me. It was weird calling it ‘Murderbot’, but that was what it apparently called itself and I didn’t want to offend it. “What’s your relationship with Peri like?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It tilted its head at me. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I mean —“ I thought about how to phase it in a way the bots could understand. “I mean, are you friends?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I loved Peri, really did. And I knew it loved us — that was very obvious in what it had done to help us all escape from the grey-skinned people — but we were it’s crew, and it was our ship. From what I understood, those labels didn’t really apply to Peri and Murderbot.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“We are not friends.” Murderbot said politely. “It annoys the shit out of me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">“<em>Likewise</em>.” </span> <span class="s2">Peri agreed, making the other bot glare.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Example, dropping in on conversations.” Murderbot said with as much annoyance it could muster.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">If Peri had eyes it could roll, it probably would have right now. “</span> <span class="s3"><em>You should be use to this by now</em>.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Just because I’m use to it does not mean I like it or agree with it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">If I was being honest, that seemed like most friendships I had. However, I held up a hand, causing both bots to pause. “Never mind, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot stared at me, then after a moment, said. “That wasn’t the only question you wanted to ask, was it?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Well, how did you guys ...” I thought of what Peri had first told us, when it and Murderbot had originally met. It had been vague and confusing, which was probably on purpose to stop us from going after Murderbot. “Meet?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">There was a momentary pause before I got an answer. “I hitched a ride.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Oh.” I had even hoping for more. I guess I needed to dig deeper. “How was it?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s3"><em>We watched media</em></span> <span class="s2">.” Peri said. “</span> <em><span class="s3">Murderbot introduced me to </span> </em><span class="s2">Worldhoppers.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I stifled a laugh. Okay, yeah. I had been confused when Peri had developed a sudden interest in the serial, but I had just thought it got bored enough between surveys to try it. Murderbot speaking again interrupted what I was going to say next. “You also changed my configuration, and helped save Tapan.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I’m sorry, Peri did what?” I asked. Who the hell was Tapan?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot sighed, and started the story, with Peri interjecting with comments every so often. Eventually, I had to cut it short because they started arguing over serials again. Oh well, at least I had more information then I had to begin with. I call that a win-win situation.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">///</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>2 - Iris</b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I liked Murderbot, which was a weird sentence.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I hadn’t had much interactions with company issued SecUnits before, but in the past little while I had formed a relationship with one. I wouldn’t call us friends, per say, but we did have ... something there. That’s all I could describe it as. A relationship.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Ew, that made us sound like we were dating.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">To be fair, however, I didn’t think Murderbot really consider anyone it’s ‘friend’. It was SecUnit, they weren’t suppose to have friends, only clients. However, Murderbot </span> <span class="s3">had</span> <span class="s2">hacked its governor module, so it could make friends if it wanted. It had the base relationship with many possible candidates, should it so choose.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">While many of us (aka; literally all of us) referred to Murderbot as a ‘friend’, it more saw us as fragile babies that got into way to much trouble and wished we would stay in one place so if didn’t have to run off and rescue us — that sounded more like a disgruntled parent then anything.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">So, Murderbot, in its eyes, didn’t have ‘friends’. Expect for Peri.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Learning our ship had helped a rouge SecUnit while we were all on break was one thing, but learning that it had basically kidnapped said SecUnit to come save us and then nearly blew up a colony because it got captured was another. When Peri had talked about the SecUnit, it was obvious it was fond of it, but we all had politely let it go because no harm had come from it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Another fact to throw into this whole mix was that (from what I learned from Amena, who, unlike Murderbot, considered me her friend and me likewise), was that when Murderbot had been lead to believe Peri had died, killed all the grey-skinned people and had an emotional breakdown not even a few hours later. Talk about whiplash.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">So, even though neither of them had acknowledged their friendship, they were friends. Which was why I took great joy in watching both of them deny it to their last (metaphorical) breath.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What are you two talking about?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot turned and narrowed its eyes at me from where it sat on one of the couches in the lounge. I don’t think it even realized it did. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You and Peri. You were just talking on your private feeds, right?” It didn’t respond, so I took that as an answer enough. “And you made a face.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It’s gaze moved from me to stare at the wall. “I am trying to recover ARTs lost memory files. There are still a few which are missing.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">“<em>You say that as if you are the only one working</em>.”</span> <span class="s2">Peri said aloud, making me jump. Even after doing multiple missions on the ship, I still never got use to it dropping it on conversations.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“I am. You’ve been watching </span> <span class="s3">Worldhoppers</span> <span class="s2">.” Murderbot sniped back.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">“<em>You’ve also been watching it</em>.” </span> <span class="s2">Peri replied.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbots face scrunched up in annoyance. “Yes, while also working on your memory files. You got distracted 11 minutes and 2.9 seconds in.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">“<em>Fine. Let’s watch </em></span> <span class="s2">Sanctuary Moon</span><em> <span class="s3">and watch </span></em><span class="s2">you</span> <span class="s3"><em>get distracted</em>.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I snorted at their banter, making Murderbot look at me and Peri turn its attention to my feed. “Something funny?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You two.” I stated. “You remind me of when I was little. Me and my friends use to argue like that all the time.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Murderbot said “We’re not arguing, I’m just pointing out how ART is wrong.” at the time Peri kindly informed that “</span> <span class="s3"><em>We are both older than you, Iris</em></span> <span class="s2">.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I blew a raspberry. “And your point is, Peri?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">The ship was uncharacteristically silent. With an eye roll, Murderbot shifted its gaze to the wall again and got the glazed over look that meant it was back in its feed. I don’t think either bot realized I just compared their relationship to my own, gasp, </span> <span class="s3">friendship</span> <span class="s2">, and I was half tempted to try again when I heard someone call my name down the corridor.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Iris, can you come here for a second?” It was my second father. I sighed, annoyed that my efforts were being halted, but Murderbot must have noticed because it pinned me with a pointed glare.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Your second father is calling you.” It stated.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">“<em>You better get going</em>.” </span> <span class="s2">Peri added. This time, I was the one that rolled my eyes.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah, yeah.” I waved off both their retorts as I left the room. “Good luck with the memory files, or whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">(When I went back later, they were currently arguing over ART getting distracted over </span> <em><span class="s3">Worldhoppers</span></em> <span class="s2">again.I made a mental note to download the serial when I got some free time.)</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">///</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong> <span class="s1">3 - Thiago</span> </strong>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I seemed to be the only one who didn’t call the ship some stupid nickname.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Over the course of our trip, I had heard many names for our vessel. I mostly just called it by it’s real name, and the ship hadn’t told me it preferred anything else, so I stuck to it. The </span> <span class="s3">Perihelions</span> <span class="s2">original crew called it ‘Peri’ for short, which seemed better than what Murderbot and my own teammates had taken to calling it. ‘ART’.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It made absolutely no sense.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">That’s why, when Murderbot flopped on one of the seats in the communal lounge (it used to stand in the corner, but everyone eventually got creeped out and it asked it to sit.), I shut off my own feed to look at it. It had been the one to start the nickname, after all, so I decided to ask it straight from the source.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Murderbot, can I ask you something?” I promoted. It scowled and looked at me, obviously annoyed that I stopped it’s media. I didn’t take it personally. After all, if it wanted privacy it should have stayed in its own room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What is it?” It asked.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I paused, thinking. “You gave ... ART it’s nickname, right?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Yep.” It said, popping the ‘p’. I rolled my eyes. Amena and Iris had been teaching it to much.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Why?” I questioned.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot answered. “It’s an anagram.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">ART, either hearing the conversation was about it or just sensing that someone needed correcting, dropped into the conversation. “</span> <em><span class="s3">Acronym</span></em> <span class="s2">.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Shut up.” Murderbot shot back without hesitation.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s3"><em>I am merely</em> —</span> <span class="s2">“</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What’s it an acronym for?” I stopped their argument before it could fully begin. If it did, I would never get my answer.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot tilted its head at me and blinked. Probably another thing it picked up from Amena and Iris, or it had just done it itself. My sister had mentioned it had made code for itself to act more ‘human’. “It stands for Asshole Research Transport.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Ah.” I was reminded of a few seconds early when the ship had just entered our conversation like it belonged there, then snorted. “Makes sense. Do you have a nickname?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“No.” Murderbot said.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span><em> <span class="s3">I refer to Murderbot by its numerical feed address</span> </em><span class="s2">.” ART said. “</span> <em><span class="s3">Every bot has one, even I do it.</span> </em><span class="s3"><em>It’s what we refer to eachother as</em>.</span> <span class="s2">”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“That’s what I call ART when we talk in our feed.” Murderbot added after a moment. “I only use ART when we’re talking out loud.” Another pause, then. “Or </span> <span class="s3">Peri</span> <span class="s2">.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <em><span class="s3">I told you, I’m not embarrassed by that nickname</span></em> <span class="s2">.” ART replied. Murderbot waved it off, then turned back to me.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Anymore questions?” It asked. “Or can I go back to my media?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I put my hands out in what I hoped was a friendly gesture. “No, go ahead.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I went back to my work while Murderbot and ... ART (I guess I’ll call it ART, it was funnier then Peri and less then a mouthful then it’s actual name) started to watch whatever serial had caught their interest this time. Maybe I should enlist Amena and Iris to give Murderbot a nickname, so it and ART could match. Asshole SecUnit. Ha.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">///</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong> <span class="s1">4 - Amena</span> </strong>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Hearing two bots argue is extremely worrisome. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I ducked into the lounge where I head arguing voices, worst cases scenarios flying through my brain, only to sigh in relief when it was just Murderbot, sitting cross-legged on the couch and giving the ceiling a middle finger.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What’s going on here?” I asked as I entered. I knew Murderbot knew I was here — it always knew — but if I wanted a conversation going I needed to be the first one to talk. “Is everything okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Without looking at me, Murderbot answered. “Yes, everything’s fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Ever since the survey where we got kidnapped by a sentient ship and helped save its crew from alien remains, Murderbot had decided to stay with ART full time. We kept in contact of course (and, after a bit of promoting, Three joined </span> <span class="s3">us</span> <span class="s2">as our SecUnit) but it had down a few missions with ARTs crew before this current one. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Now, we were altogether again. Since we were in no immediate danger of death or dismemberment, Murderbot didn’t really bug us. We were usually working and preparing for the upcoming survey anyways — we had sent it an information packet about the planet, but I knew it hadn’t read it — so it couldn’t really do anything expect stand awkwardly to the side and watch media as we talked.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Not to say it didn’t watch media. It did. Lots of it. But mostly with ART, in the communal lounge (it had its own room, but never really used it). If one wasn’t a SecUnit that could rip someone apart without even blinking and the other was a sentient research vessel that was way to sarcastic for being ‘made to serve’, I would have called it cute.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Uh.” Murderbot lowered its arm, but continued to glare at nothing. “If everything’s fine, why were you just flipping off the ceiling?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I was flipping off ART.” It replied nonchalantly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Getting answers from Murderbot was like pulling teeth (to be fair, all bots tended to be difficult. I asked Three if it was liking the serial I recommended to it the other day and it took ten minutes to get a simple yes or no answer. The answer had been no.) “And why were you flipping off ART?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Murderbot rolled its eyes. “Because it just called my favourite </span> <em><span class="s3">Sanctuary Moon </span></em> <span class="s2">character ‘whiny and annoying’.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s3"><em>I said it because it’s true. All they do is stand around and scream in fear whenever something goes wrong</em>.” </span> <span class="s2">ART interjected, trying to make its point.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“No, they do not. In episode 42, they saved the rest of the group when they were trapped in the airlock.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">“<em>Fine, that is the only tim</em>e.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“And in episode 103 —“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">“<em>I get it.</em>” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">I remembered what Iris had told me, about how the two always argued over every little thing, and snickered. They reminded me of my little siblings — I once caught two of them in a heated battle over which </span> <em><span class="s3">Starshine Study </span></em> <span class="s2">character was the best.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">However, the two bots didn’t seem to notice, as they had started arguing over </span> <span class="s3">Sanctuary Moon</span> <span class="s2">again.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s3"><em>I thought that entire season has been widely accepted as not canon?</em>” </span> <span class="s2">ART said.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“‘Not canon’?” Murderbot exclaimed. “It happened —“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">“<em>Many assume that it was all just a dream</em>.” </span> <span class="s2">ART interrupted. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, so just because humans don’t agree with something they think it was ‘just a dream.’” Murderbot mocked. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <em><span class="s3">It’s not just humans</span></em> <span class="s2">.” Corrected ART.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Murderbot sneered, realizing the implications. “Well, by that logic </span> <em><span class="s3">Worldhoppers</span></em> <span class="s2">season 7 through 8 didn’t happen.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">“<em>We do not speak of that arc</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">They were so caught up in their argument I don’t even think they realized I was still there, or that they were even talking out loud. However, since I hadn’t watched any of the serial they were talking about, I felt a little bit out of the loop.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">However, I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Iris padding over. She didn’t say anything, hearing the voices which were steadily growing in volume (well, Murderbot was. ART kept the same monotone lilt which only seemed to infuriate the SecUnit more.) but stopped beside me and peered into the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Since we the youngest occupants of the ship, we had hung out a lot, and I would say we were friends. She frowned in concern at argument, then glanced at me.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em><span class="s3">What are they arguing about?</span></em> <span class="s2">Iris asked in our private feed, not wanting to disturb them.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3"><em>Sanctuary Moon</em>. </span> <span class="s2">I answered.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s3">Again? </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I laughed out loud at that. The two bots were so caught up Murderbot didn’t even seemed to register it, despite its high value on security. ART, however, entered my feed and gave me a metaphorical glare before turning all its attention to the argument over which ‘not canon’ arc was more stupid.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">///</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong> <span class="s1">5 - Dr. Mensah</span> </strong>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot had given me a brief overview of what it had done when it had ... gonesolo. It had mentioned getting a ride on a transport it had formed a ‘relationship’ with (the correct word was friendship, but I don’t think Murderbot knew that.) It did not mentioned that the transport was sentient and way to nosy for anyone’s good.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">I had only come along on this survey because of my crew and daughter — I was worried about them. And Murderbot. The first time they go on a trip without me way too much shit went down, and I felt I little better knowing that if something happened, I was at least </span> <span class="s3">with</span> <span class="s2">them this time instead of worrying about them.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">And this survey had been alright so far — we hadn’t gotten to our destination yet, but would in the next few cycles, but the crew of the </span> <span class="s3">Perihelion</span> <span class="s2">(aka Peri aka ART aka Murderbots friend) were very nice and accommodating. Amena and Iris has become good friends, and I didn’t find myself dreading the rest of the trip.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot, however, spent most of its time with the ship itself. There was no need for that much security because of ARTs heavy weapons and Three, the other newly rouge SecUnit, had also joined us on the trip (it had the choice to come with us or stay on Preservation with Pin-Lee and Gurathin, but wanted to come with our survey instead. Unlike our SecUnit, it didn’t seem like serials that much and mostly kept to itself. We didn’t want to push it, so we let it be.)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">The two bots usually just watched media together, though Murderbot had been helping ART recover some lost memory files. They also argued a lot. I mean, </span> <span class="s3">a lot</span> <span class="s2">, and I had multiple children to compare with. However, that wasn’t that weird. What was odd was that neither of them seemed to realize this.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Murderbot, can I ask you something?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot paused its serial to look at me, seeming to debate whether or not I would just ask anyway, then decided to just get it over with. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Are you and ART friends?” I asked.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Murderbot pinned me with a look that was a tie between confusion and exasperated. “No, we’re not. We’ve already told Seth that.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Oh. Sorry.” I frowned. Murderbot had a very ... dry sense of humour, but right now I could tell it wasn’t joking. “You guys just ... you watch media together all the time.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Yes, and?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“And you argue.” I added. Back when I was younger, me and my friends argued over the littlest things as well. “All the time.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“And?” It was starting to sound annoyed. At this point, ART had caught wind of the conversation and sat heavily in the feed. However, it didn’t say anything, which was uncharacteristic of it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Trying desperately to give Murderbot more proof, I remembered what Amena had told me about how Murderbot had reacted when they thought ART was a dead, and how ART had threatened the colony when Murderbot was taken hostage. “And you’re protective of eachother.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“We’re not —“ It started. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You are.” I interrupted. Murderbot frowned, but didn’t try to disprove the claim anymore. ART stayed silent, but I felt it watching us with close focus. “Those are all values of a friendship.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I guess.” Murderbot trailed off. An odd look came over it’s face, meaning it was processing my words and flipping them over in its head.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Deciding to let it be, I turned back to my own stream. After a moment, Murderbot did too, and ART left to join it as they watched media. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when I was halfway through rereading the report on the planet we were going to survey, did Murderbot send my a message on our private feed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3"><em>I do see ART as my friend</em>. </span> <span class="s2">Murderbot told me. </span> <em><span class="s3">I will just never tell it that.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">I hummed in thought. I had no idea why you wouldn’t tell someone that, but I didn’t want to push Murderbot anymore. Besides, ART could probably tell we were talking. </span> <span class="s3"><em>Of course</em>. </span> <span class="s2">I replied.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Honestly, though, I didn’t think it really mattered if Murderbot admitted it or not. We all saw it (and I knew ART did, too.).</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">///</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>+1 - Murderbot</b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s3">Why do humans seem so obsessed with our relationship?</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">ART paused episode 23 of </span> <em><span class="s3">Worldhoppers</span></em> <span class="s2">, then replied. </span> <em><span class="s3">For once, I do not know.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Figures. The one time I ask it for something it doesn’t have the answer.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">After my conversation with Dr. Mensah, I realized a few things. One was that humans were way, way to invested in others peoples relationships (however, I feel like media had taught me that already). The other was that I did not like humans asking about mine and ARTs relationship.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It was not my client — it would be appalled to be called that. I wouldn’t call us acquaintances (we were well past that, after it altered my appearance and helped me save one of my dumb humans). I think I would describe it as my friend, as I had told Dr. Mensah. But only in my head. Never out loud.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3"><em>I think they ask about it in a way to get closer to you</em>. </span> <span class="s2">ART supplied after a moment. </span> <em><span class="s3">They do it with themselves all the time.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It sent me some videos from its cameras, showing off various conversations between its crew, my crew, and members from both crews together talking about personal affairs. If I put it together with footage from my drones, it seemed that yes, humans did it to eachother all the time. But they seemed to do it more with me.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em><span class="s3">Why do they want to get closer with me? </span></em> <span class="s2">I asked. </span> <em><span class="s3">It makes no sense.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">ART paused for 3.7 seconds, which for a bot, especially one as complicated as ART, was a way to long time. </span> <em><span class="s3">It’s because you are part of the crew.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3"><em>I’m a guest</em>. </span> <span class="s2">I shot back.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Another pause, this time 5.1 seconds, long enough to set me on edge. </span> <em><span class="s3">You are an idiot.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">That offended me a little bit. It was a simple observation. I had been travelling with ART and it’s crew before Dr. Mensahs team had arrived, but I hadn’t technically even been there — I had no documents. If anyone had asked, I had been at Dr. Mensahs farm. </span> <span class="s3">Not as much as you. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s3">I am a fully sentient ship with more than half the processing space then you. If anyone here is an idiot, it’s you.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Seeing I wasn’t going to win this argument, and that I wanted to know what promoted it in the first place, I let it drop. </span> <em><span class="s3">Why am I an idiot?</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">ART was smug that it had apparently won, I could feel it though the feed — it hadn’t won, I had just let it think that — but it replied with upmost sincerity. </span> <em><span class="s3">You are part of </span></em> <span class="s2">my</span> <span class="s3"><em>crew</em>.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I was silent for ten whole seconds. My surprise must have shown on my face, because Amena and Iris, who had been chatting lightly on the other side of the room, paused in their conversation and asked. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I waited another two seconds to answer, still processing. “I am fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3"><em>Me and Murderbot are having a private conversation</em>. </span> <span class="s2">ART interrupted on the communal feed. </span> <span class="s3">It is nothing to worry about.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Iris and Amena gave me one last look I couldn’t figure out what it meant, but then resumed their conversation. Still taking time to process ARTs words, I observed the</span> <span class="s2"> communal lounge I was (had been) watching serials in.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Amena and Iris were sitting in chairs on the other side, talking about something that happened in the serial they had started watching together — a teen drama, that from what I had seen, mostly dealt with miscommunication drama and sex. Not my thing. — and Dr. Mensah had also entered the room when I had been caught up in my media, and and started flipping through her feed on the couch.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Thiago, to make everything worse, entered as well. He spared me a glance. “What’s wrong with Murderbot?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I am fine.” I snapped. A weird feeling had started in my torso, and it made me twist my mouth up all funny as ART dropped into the communal feed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Are you sure —“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s3"><em>Murderbot is alright</em>.” </span> <span class="s2">ART interrupted. Thiago frowned, but then turned to Dr. Mensah and started talking about the upcoming survey. We would land in two cycles, then the team would go down to the surface. I had decided to go, though Three had chosen to stay.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Are</span> <em><span class="s3">you alright? </span></em> <span class="s2">ART asked in out private feed, with a hint of worry. The weird feeling twisted slightly, but I ignored it.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3"><em>Quit asking me that</em>. </span> <span class="s2">I said. </span> <em><span class="s3">I’m thinking.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">ART did the ship-without-a-face equivalent of rolling its eye. </span> <em><span class="s3">If I knew you would have reacted this way, I wouldn’t have said anything.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em><span class="s3">I’m not — </span></em> <span class="s2">I paused and choose my words carefully. </span> <em><span class="s3">I did not know you saw me as part of your crew.</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">ARTs crew was very important it. It had basically kidnapped me to save them, after all, and it spoke very fondly and highly of them. To be considered part of it made all my organic parts feel warm and tingly and is this what humans felt like everyday? It was exhausting.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3"><em>Of course I do, you little idiot</em>. </span> <span class="s2">Was all ART replied with, but it was firm, with no room for argument. It said it like it was a solemn fact. It make the weird feeling return and I did not like it. I didn’t even mind the jab.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">There was another lull in conversation, both between me and ART and with the humans, so I checked what was going on with them with my drones. They were all staring at me, which was not something they usually did. They all knew how much I didn’t like people looking at me.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What?” I tried to ask it calmly, but it came out very harsh. None of the humans seemed to mind, however, as Dr. Mensah just did the soft expression with her face usually reserved for her family.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You’re smiling.” She said softly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I checked myself. I was. Oh. These were the time I missed my helmet.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Instead of replying, I started the episode 23 of </span> <em><span class="s3">Worldhoppers </span></em> <span class="s2">again. ART didn’t say anything, just hovered back in my feed. The humans, however, started to all leave the lounge, sending glances towards me. One of my drones caught their conversation as they left.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Why’d we have to leave?” Thiago asked Dr. Mensah once they were in the corridor and the door had shut behind them. Iris and Amena were up ahead, giggling quietly to themselves.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">She just smiled at him. “Giving them some space.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Thiago snorted. “Are they ever gonna admit they actually like eachother?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Don’t think so. It’s pretty obvious, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">I turned all my attention back to </span> <em><span class="s3">Worldhoppers</span></em> <span class="s2">, so quickly it was obvious to ART I had seen something I didn’t want to and was trying to distract myself. After a moment, ART sent me sigil 12 through out direct feed. Smile.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">I felt the weird feeling again. This time, I let my face respond in kind. Smile back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>jfc was it okay?? was it?? anyway uh ART and Murderbot own my heart.</p><p>(the tibet about what bots call eachother is from this &gt; https://marthawells.dreamwidth.org/511317.html . it’s short but pretty interesting.)</p><p>thanks for reading I guess.</p><p>edit: somehow this fic got fucking 100 KUDOS!! thank you all SO MUCH this is literally the first time any writing piece of mine hit 100 anything!! y’all are so good lmao.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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